


City of Men 2: The Search

by artemismoon12



Series: The Despes Chronicles [2]
Category: CPCoulter's Dalton
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Daddy!Julian, Gen, Homelessness, Human Trafficking, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemismoon12/pseuds/artemismoon12
Summary: "Where's my mommy?"Julian doesn't have an answer for her.One year has past since Julian broke free of his brainwashing ex, accidentally adopted a little girl named Sandra, and went on the run from the oppressive powers that be of Despes- the last east coast bastion in a nuclear lanscape. Now, Sandra and Julian must look for her mother, find a way to survive, and uncover the dark secrets lurking under the city's thin veneer of safety.
Relationships: Adam Clavell/Julian Larson-Armstrong (Past), Julian Larson-Armstrong/John Logan Wright III (Past)
Series: The Despes Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/247705





	1. Chapter 1

_Relief is a drink most people swallow down like syrup; a remedy for the symptoms but not the true ache._

\---

A year ago Julian Larson had been a happy young man. He had a secure job at a supermarket, he had a husband who loved him, and they were living in one of the safest cities in the world. Nothing was against him, if anything his only troubles were bad dreams and the occasional domestic disagreement with his husband Adam. That was until he took in a little girl called Sandra and his world came tumbling down. 

When Sandra toddled out of an alleyway, lost with a smile on her face both Julian and Adam knew that she was in danger. From her wide eyed innocent story the two gathered that her mother had been taken by poachers and her father had been killed trying to defend his wife; Sandra however escaped without a true understanding of what happened. Julian took pity on her and took her home, Adam on the other hand was firmly set on turning her over to the foster system; they didn’t need to court risk or suspicion. 

Sandra’s existence in their lives provided an interesting catalyst; she set forth the pair losing their home, being chased for months by poachers set on kidnapping Sandra. Her existence also split the two men and revealed a shocking truth to the history behind Julian and Adam’s relationship. Julian’s long-time dreams of needles and fire, in a climatic showdown over Sandra revealed that Adam had actually killed the man Julian loved and then brainwashed him into loving him. Adam was turned over to the police and Julian slipped into the night. Both he and Sandra scarred by the events and clinging to each other for support. 

But that was a year ago and times changed quickly in a year, much as they could change quickly in a minute or even a second. 

This is of course referring to the sad state of the world that Julian and Sandra live in. It might be surprising, but then again maybe not that not long ago the world had been hit by a seemingly impossible event which changed the course of humanity forever.

Nuclear war was the name of the disaster- North Korea’s last line of desperation as the United Nations started negotiations to invade and liberate. Feeling threatened the tiny dictatorship unleashed hell upon the earth, starting with the United States of America who led the charge of the ‘corrupt’ Western nations on their ‘paradise’. While the invasion might not have been a wise suggestion, none could have imagined it would garner thirteen hundred nuclear warheads of varying strengths being launched simulatiously. Armageddon was upon the globe and no one knew how to stop it. 

The bombs rained down on the Central and Northern United States, obliterating some states like North Dakota and Washington with a single bomb. By geographical proximity, as well as their own decision to place most of their population along the 49th parallel, Canada’s population on the US/Canada border was destroyed within weeks of the nuclear warheads landing on their soil. The capital of Canada was moved to Nunavut in the far north while anything north of Virginia stayed dead- anything North of Virginia across the globe.

The United States naturally chose to retaliate but their attack came to slowly as most of their nuclear site had already been detonated. Radiation poisoning was killing the swiftly and painfully. All the money they had poured into their military power had been cut back like the world’s largest recession which affected every single tax bracket. Immune to wealth or power, bombs simply destroyed.

Some people managed to keep on the move, escape from the radiation that the world had inflicted upon them. Ordinary citizens had no interest in politics unless it affected their ideologies behind guns or bible thumping, interestingly enough both those policies survived well enough. The two largest states which still held major cities were Georgia and Texas, although their governors had been in the Northern States when the bombs hit. Still darkness fell across the last vestiges of hope that survivors had. When some sense of government had been formed in the midst of nomadic post-apocalyptic warfare it was usurped by a rich conservative who took control of the remaining States. It was simple horror. 

Immediately women were ordered back into their homes, however what homes could they return to? This problem of women being pushed back into the pre-Cold War roles led to the downfall of a society trying to rebuild itself. 

After the women of the world were barred from the workforce it was the menfolk who were the only ones who could earn any semblance of a living for them and their families. Food especially was a top priority; the only way anyone could get a hold of any form of substance was to get specialty government rations on job sites or buy it with money that one earned on a job site. Either way women and children starved. 

What was worse was that a few years after the bombs were dropped an event known as the The Epidemic hit the land. This was a result of a virus mutating in the remaining population and targeting double X chromosomes, although immunity could also be provided via the workplace government rations. The female population dropped by seventy percent and left a good many others sterile. The chaos which only mildly engulfed the Southern States was fanned into a full flame. 

This was the tipping point for the American people and they overthrew their ‘elected’ officials. The Red Cross took over and tried to run the remaining states from the rebuilt city of Houston (nicknamed Red Houston for their liberal outlook). It worked, but it would never change the world back to what it once was. Women were now not just minorities in power, but also in numbers and nothing could be done to protect them from the repercussions of the epidemic which killed so many of them. The Red Cross could only take in so many women to the crumbling ruins of Houston.

That was where Despes factored into the entire equation. Red Houston while quiet and powerful didn’t have the security or resources that they needed. A group of industrialists in the middle of the shattered Georgia did have those resources though through means they might not be proud to admit until after their new home was built. It was everything Houston wasn’t, it was large, it was safe, it was reliable, and it was beautiful. Towering black structures of glass built on top of the rubble of the old crumbling streets. They created clean roadways with steam powered cars and vehicles; they managed to fit a few decades of innovation into a few short years and give hope to a world which had little. It attracted thousands of people and left many wondering why Houston in it’s dried out bomb shelters didn’t take a similar route. Either way, Despes was far superior.

And this is where the trouble seemed to come to light; before the metropolises started to crop up again the shady underground managed to stay out of the public light, even the problems surrounding The Epidemic could be overlooked because one never saw the true comparison of past and present. But when the surviving women came to Despes for protection and safety it was where they truly saw how few they numbered in comparison to the thousands of men. And the biggest problem threatening them, despite Despes’ police force offering them protection, was poaching. 

It wasn’t typical poaching of animals for pelts or claws; it was female poaching. If a person was in possession of female organs she would be demanded by the surrounding male population, not all of them content to embrace latent bisexual or homosexual tendencies like Despes encouraged in their citizens to stop violence towards the women of Despes. It wasn’t the majority case though and poachers stole women and young girls from their homes or off the streets to sell into slavery to their new masters. 

This is where Julian and Sandra factor into this long and contrived history lesson. Needless to say their lives and their story are what will prove the focus, though a little background can only help. Julian found Sandra and through a stranger series of events unofficially adopted her; but both knew that she had a real family still out there and Julian was determined to unite them all under the same roof again. He’d already lost his husband who he still felt conflicted about, and on top of that regained a past which showed him why in fact he felt so strongly about rescuing Sandra. It’s twisted but in a way, that’s love. 

A year has past since Sandra and Julian slipped into the dark shadows of Despes and a whole year since they caught a glimpse of Sandra’s mother on the streets. She was alive and that was all Sandra needed to know. Julian didn’t know what to do. In some ways that little girl has been carrying him more than he knew. 

But in any case, the story at hand is more important and all will be revealed as you read on. 


	2. Chapter 2

The peach tree in the centre of the government square was not what either of them would call particularly large or impressive. It was tall but stunted on the branches; it was green but also devoid of fruit; in fact the only hint it was a peach tree was from the talk of a blossom a few months earlier which hadn’t yielded a single fruit. 

Julian held Sandy on his shoulders, her small legs gripping to his neck as she sat high up in the air. Her dark hair was freshly cut, shorter than it ever had been before, but they were close to the government buildings and she had to look as male as possible. They frequently saw poachers near the foster care building and Julian was always nervous that they would find out who she was. 

Sandra’s eyes drew over the city square, just as observantly as her father’s but with a better perspective from her young mind. Julian’s thoughts were always jumping between a thousands different little thoughts, unable to keep focused on any single event. She patted the top of his head and pointed subtly across the square. Instinctively he looked to where she was pointing. 

Across the grey stone circle, standing below the peach tree a tall man in dark casual clothes was staring up at the leaves. Or rather pretending to stare at the leaves. His gaze wasn’t focused on the tree or any other form of nature, instead his eyes flickered over to the Foster Care building and its occasional visitor. This was the man they were looking for. 

“Okay on the count of three you and me, we’re going to get this guy okay?” Julian whispered, reassuring and confident. They’d lost track of the poachers for almost a week and this was their chance to start tracking them again. 

Sandy nodded and let Julian lift her off of his shoulders. She giggled quietly as he swung her down with more flourish than was needed. Stepping out of the shadows Sandy marched in front of Julian as the two made their way towards the man in the centre of the square. Sandy was determined to get the man and confirm that he was indeed who they were looking for. Her guardian usually did most of the talking but it didn’t mean she didn’t help. 

“Excuse me.” Julian called out to the man. He surreptitiously caught Sandy’s hand and tugged her to his side as they neared the large suspicion. “I was wondering if you knew were the bank is, I’m trying to get a replacement card but no one seems to want to help me out.”

The man looked startled as if he wasn’t expecting anyone to approach him. He did a double take at the pair before crossing his arms and shrugging. He spoke in a low, dark voice: “It’s on the other side of the city. What are you a Red?”

“Actually we’re from the north and we’ve already lost our CPC card to a bit of clumsiness.” Julian joked, casual as he could be. His eyes weren’t hidden behind sunglasses but it was like he was hiding every bit of hatred he could feel for this man and his awful profession. 

“That’s rough.” The man said before turning back towards the tree, and toward the Foster care door.

From the main street two policemen with sombre expressions led a troupe of small children into the square. The man Julian and Sandy were talking to suddenly twitched. Julian’s eyes widened when he saw what the man was looking at. The two officers had a group of about five children, presumably from the orphanage up the road. The group was mostly boys but, in a shock of bright purple, was a little girl with shiny black hair. 

Julian felt Sandra shrink against his leg, her hand clutching his tighter as she felt the excitement rolling off the man they had been talking to. It wasn’t an exhilarating feeling; it was cold and sticky because both of them knew that this man was not looking at that little girl for anything more than hunger or profit. They had their man; he was definitely part of the poacher ring they had been following for the past few months. The only question was how to get him away from the square so they could get some information out of him. 

Squeezing Sandra’s hand Julian raised his voice again. “Poor kids.”

The man span about, “What?”

“You were looking at the kids. You must feel as sorry as I do for them. Not everyone around here is so safe huh?” Julian’s voice was breezy as he spoke but Sandra could sense the underlying venom. She looked up at him warily before looking back to the intimidating man before them. 

In the background the orphaned children were being organised so they could be led into the foster centre. According to procedure each and every child would go to a kind and patient pair of gentlemen, maybe even a mother and father if they were lucky enough to find a pair like that who didn’t want to have their own children. Adoption from the foster system was looked on fondly in Despes especially with sterilisation from the epidemic and the nuclear debris. The boys might get that fate, the little girl too… hopefully.

“What do you mean?” The man looked confused. Why was this random guy who wanted to get to the bank with his son suddenly striking up a conversation? 

“I mean so many children have been orphaned from all the poachers around here. The mother’s taken and her husband is maybe lucky enough to survive in a coma for the rest of his life. It’s so tragic. But good people like us well we don’t have to worry about those damn poachers right?” Julian smiled. The man frowned, sensing something amiss. 

“Yeah… right guy. I should be going.” He said gruffly, “the bank’s down the main road, only half a block before the main gate.” He turned his back and started trotting towards the Foster Building. 

The orphans were just inside the black glass doors, a little beyond the poacher’s reach but still far enough that Julian could intercept him. He needed to distract him. He was about to call the man back to clarify directions to the bank when Sandra tugged at his hand. He followed the line of her finger to the man’s back pocket. Julian’s throat tightened. The glint of metal peeking out from under the man’s jacket was enough to send his heart racing. 

“We have to help. He’s going to take the little kids!” Sandra exclaimed loudly enough for just Julian to hear. Her pseudo father nodded and directed her towards the trash bins they had entered the square beside. They hadn’t planned on being separated, but they didn’t anticipate their quest for information turning into a poach right in front of them. 

He bent down next to her and whispered the plan in her ear. “Hide there until I get back. We’re going to have to make a clean getaway, ‘kay?”

She nodded fiercely, her green eyes shining determinedly. The foggy sunlight muted the sparkle in them but he knew it was there. She’d do anything for her new daddy, she was a good little agent in their not-make-believe game. 

Julian kissed the top of her head swiftly before springing up quickly. “Go.”

Sandra and Julian sped. One towards the dumpsters to hide, too small to do any actual good; the other speeding towards the poacher who had his fingers wrapped around his gun already and the door within his fingertips. 

“Stop!” Julian yelled, trying to alert not just the officers inside but the police officers in the station next door. He didn’t know how the police force was so incompetent they’d allow a gun carrier right in the centre of the city square. He chalked it up to bad training and poor nutrition. There wasn’t nearly enough food to feed the active officers like there had been years ago. But then again that shouldn’t affect brainpower. 

The poacher almost turned to look but then the children inside spotted him. Their screams were piercing in only the way a child could achieve with their overactive lungs. The little girl in purple was the shrillest. 

Kicking in the door seemed smarter to the poacher instead of wasting time with opening the heavy glass. Two shots hit the air as the glass shattered from the bullets. Julian could see the foster care workers in the background flee under their desks. Cowards. 

The police officers guarding the children started yelling threats at the man and levelled their own guns at him. He didn’t seem to care, instead stepping through the shattered glass and lunging for the children. 

Julian cursed the glass, hoping he wouldn’t cut himself to ribbons. Running and jumping, he left the ground and sailed through the jagged glass opening. He knocked into the poacher with a heavy thump, the impact sending both of them stumbling. 

The children were screaming and already running behind the desks with the frightened foster workers. The policemen didn’t know what to do with this stranger who was now grappling with a larger and well armed opponent. They barked orders at both men but neither seemed to listen. 

Julian felt the bite of a wound on his arm, the glass grazing him as he went through the door. He managed to take the poacher by surprise and get the taller man around the throat with his forearm. The taller man was struggling, reaching his hand around to point the gun at Julian. Instead Julian pressed his arm tighter to the man’s neck and kneed him sharply. 

The taller man went down, unconscious as he sank to the floor. Julian was left panting, his arm bloody. 

“You’re welcome you bastards. Next time do your job and find the poachers before I have to.” Julian shook his head witheringly at the two officers who still pointed guns at him. 

“Put your hands above your head and step away from the fugitive.” One officer barked. 

Julian rolled his eyes and raised his hands. He slouched back and gave the men an ‘are you serious?’ look. “Are we in an old western or did you just say ‘fugitive’?”

The gun quivered. “I said hands above your head!”

“They are.” He waved from above his head, a sarcastic smile on his face. “I was a just a concerned citizen helping some officers in trouble. Do you want to shoot me for that or can I get back to what I was doing before? I just want to get to the bank.” Reusing his excuse from earlier seemed feasible enough so why not?

“But the bank is on the other side of the city.” The other officer lowered his gun in confusion. 

“Apparently.” Julian quipped. 

The second officer nudged the one with his gun still pointed at Julian. Picking his words carefully the man eased them out, as if not to startle his partner. “He did help us.”

Julian started to lower his arms. The officer glanced at his partner and lowered his gun. Julian smirked. 

“Is it safe to come out?” One of the foster workers asked, climbing out from under his desk. The children’s voices returned to coherent noise, a blabber of words instead of screams rising from them. The little girl in purple didn’t cry but instead held another little boy who was. The officers turned their attentions to the ordinary folk for a second and when they turned back Julian was gone. 

It was a quick escape, racing across the square like it was second nature. He was a fast runner, not always but these days he seemed to be getting better and better at it. Maybe if his parent’s hadn’t brought him up on acting he could have been a track star. Then again those expression and voice lessons were proving helpful nowadays. 

The dark alleyway held the echoes from the open street on the other end. Bustling sidewalks with the passerbys so oblivious to what just happened. Maybe it’d be on the evening news, Adam’s arrest had been. Maybe Sandra’s mother had even been televised as her husband had died in the kidnapping- but there were so many kidnappings it was practically routine. Julian thrust the thoughts out of his head as he skidded to a halt, out of view behind the dumpster. 

“Sandy.” He hissed, nudging the side of the dumpster forward. Those familiar green eyes shone up at him. Her face split into a grin at his face. She could recognise that face anywhere, even in shadows and half hidden by too-long chestnut waves. She threw herself into his arms. 

Her rounded tones whispered in his ear, excited and sure: “We got the bad guy right daddy?”

“Yeah we did.” He held her tightly, refusing to let her go as he just felt her small arms around his neck. They lost their informant, but they saved a little girl; a little girl just like his Sandra. Now if only they could save her mother. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’d taken a while for them to get onto this track. Trying to find the woman who had been Sandra’s role model for so long had been important but there had been a period where Julian physically couldn’t bring himself to actually stand up and start looking for her. 

He knew very little of the woman except that she was the last living relative that Sandra had. He’d heard a little about her when he first found Sandra wandering the streets. Mostly it was from inferring. She seemed to be held in high regard by her daughter, almost every second line was talking about the love her parents had for her. That Julian could understand, considering he was for all intensive purposes the girl’s father. 

What made him concerned however was that Sandra’s mother had been kidnapped and sold to a grimy older man. Not only that but they had found her mother- one single look of her with her new husband. She was sad, and alone, and pregnant. That was all he needed to know to realize how difficult it would be to reunite mother and child. Especially if her new husband realized someone was onto them. 

Other than that he knew that ‘Grace’ as he heard her being called, was a beautiful young woman who looked extraordinarily like her young daughter; except unlike Sandra she hadn’t been disguised as a male for her own protection. Her long black hair was beautiful and the flash of icy green eyes from across the road made her memorable, to say the least. 

But even though he had an idea where she was living, he couldn’t go after her. At that moment, with Sandra crying out in his arms for her mother, he was trapped in his own marriage. Unknowingly brainwashed into loving the man who killed the man he loved. The same day that Julian had seen Grace, and been mere seconds from her, his memories came rushing back and he was broken. 

How could he live with himself knowing that he’d spent years loving the very man who destroyed Logan? How could he have ever brought himself to see another day? He felt disgusted with himself, almost catatonic some days when he thought to the conflicting memories- some real while some were fabricated to make it seem like he was head over heels for Adam. The scary thing was sometimes he was scared that some of those feelings had been genuine. Call it manipulation or just emotions he didn’t know what to think about the entire situation. Where it not for Sandra coming into their lives he might have lived until he was old and grey with Logan’s murderer.

It was also Sandra who brought him out of that depression, just like Adam had made him forget the horrible images of fire and needles, and melting skulls; Sandra was the one to remind him he had to keep on living. He had a purpose, he had someone to love and protect from people like Adam. It was terrifying but Sandra grounded him, with her little smile and sweet ‘supposing’. 

Every time he looked into her eyes he was reminded of why he’d picked her out of that alleyway in the first place. She had the same eyes as Logan even though the two were as different as night and day. She was a child. Logan had been his age. She was dark, with the round face of a child; Logan had been pale with blond hair and sharp features. Sandra was sweet and innocent; sometimes Logan had been so cruel it made him wonder why he’d fallen for him. Sandra was patient, Logan had been angry- but still there was such a humanity to the both of them which made them worth loving (abet in different ways).

He wouldn’t lose her the way he lost Logan. And he wouldn’t let her mother be lost either, if Sandra needed her mother he would find her. Even though his mind was caught between the real and the fake he knew it was something he had to do. Sandra had looked on him with apprehension too many times in the weeks after Adam’s arrest for him to continue on. He needed to accept what had happened because he wasn’t the only person who relied on him. Sandra needed him, and so did her mother. 

It had taken them a few days to track down the neighbourhood they had been walking through the day they saw Grace. The street was a quiet residential area, the nicer brick showing that it was part of the old city of Atlanta before the industrialists had built it up as Despes. Sandra kept hold of his hand as they walked along the sidewalk, pretending they were out for a quiet stroll just like any other resident of the eerily calm street. 

Every other street in Despes was bustling and active, alive with motion and movement of people praising the city for their lives. Many of them came to Despes as refuges of the bombs, afraid and poor, not a penny to their names. The city offered them sanctuary from nomadic tribes and nuclear mutations, and in return they celebrated every single day. Despes wasn’t the safest place on the planet, but the threats it had were named at least. To see a street that wasn’t celebrating their existence, still less than a decade after the world was levelled was surprising, almost suspicious. 

Then again what was to be expected from a well-to-do neighbourhood where men had enough money to buy a poached woman right out of her home and force her to be your wife? It was barbaric how some people within the ‘civilized’ walls of the city still managed to be so much like the survivalists who hunted liked wolves outside in the barren deserts. In some ways they were more like beasts that those they despised; even if they just contributed to the poaching. 

The silence on the road nearly unnerved Julian, not hearing such quiet since a movie set after the words ‘action’. He was constantly worried that something would jump out at them, but the only noise was the far off sound of people from blocks away. 

Curious. Last time they had been there at least two couples had been out walking, it wasn’t strange to see people about. But now? The hairs on the back of Julian’s neck prickled, as if he was being watched. He held Sandra closer to him, just in case. 

The two of them traced the path they thought they had seen Grace and her captor take; the corner turning onto a cul-de-sac, mercifully with only six houses. In that moment Julian had allowed himself to hope that it might be easy to accomplish their task. 

The Julian’s throat stuck as he rang the doorbell. He’d practiced this beforehand; their plan was simply to ask for a bathroom, using Sandra as an excuse to get inside. Maybe once inside they could spot Grace or any evidence she was there. It seemed unlikely she’d be locked up in a dungeon if she had been paraded about the streets weeks before. 

No one was home but Sandra pointed out the ugly curtains. She stated her mother would never allow those, and Julian filled in that no man would pick such a floral print. It made sense from there to move to the next house.

The second held nothing, the third was disappointing, but it was on the fourth that they got something. A kind old man who allowed them inside, letting Sandra use the bathroom and chatting cordially with Julian. 

“I didn’t think I’d see anyone actually out for a walk in these parts again. Everyone likes their locked doors too much now eh?” The old man smiled. 

“Really? This is our usual route for our afternoon walks, has it really changed so much in a few weeks?” Julian inquired, the lies flowing smoothly off his tongue.

The old man, who introduced himself as Alphonse, replied. “It’s sad. I liked that family so much. Stevenson, I think his name was. His wife Grace was the prettiest young thing you could imagine. They’d just gotten married, told me that they’d been sweethearts for years before they found each other again. They even had a baby on the way would you believe? Young love.”

Alphonse sighed, “Shame though. Grace was a quiet thing, but sometimes I’d see her looking out the window, probably lost in herself. It reminded me of my late husband. It was a few days before they left that I’d actually gone over to have coffee with her; she was sweet, a little timid but a lovely lady.” 

“They left?” Julian interrupted, “But this is such a nice neighbourhood.”

“I agree. I didn’t know why they did it but as soon as they left in such a flurry the rest of the neighbourhood started packing up. Boarding up their windows like the bombs were coming again. Something spooked Stevenson enough that they went running.” Alphonse said the words sadly, like he couldn’t imagine anything horrible enough to separate them from a pretty little cul-de-sac like his. “They hadn’t even taken the keys out of the locks, they just ran.”

Julian got a lump in his throat. What else other than a child recognizing their mother could spook a man like that? Stevenson had probably left the very night that Sandy had called out ‘Mama’, terrified that he would be arrested for aiding a poacher and buying an enslaved woman from them. Julian wondered if this meant the trail had gone cold, or if there was some hint as to where the man had taken Grace. 

“Where do you think they went?”

“Probably downtown, but if they were scared enough they might go all the way to Houston. It’s a ways away but if they were scared enough they didn’t even leave a note they might have gone all the way.” The way Alphonse ‘supposed’ it made him think of what Sandra might become, with a little more logic and a few more years to her. 

Speaking of Sandra, in she toddled like a small dark cat, curious to the goings on. 

“Come on sport, let’s not overstay our welcome. Thank you Alphonse.” Julian said to the old man. 

Alphonse said farewell, bidding Sandy and Julian a kind goodbye and good wishes. If the old man noticed any similarities to the kind woman he had coffee with he didn’t mention it. Julian was thankful for that. Even a wayward remark might send questions flying up in the air and once that can of worms was open the neighbourhood might explode with the gossip; even reclusive people liked to talk behind the backs of others. 

They left the cul-de-sac with its empty houses and metaphorically boarded windows. Julian wasn’t sure how they’d track a man and his hostage across a city like Despes. The police were useless somehow when it came to poaching situation. It wasn’t like they could just hire a private detective and go with it. Most people in Despes were doing enough to get by, no side jobs or anything like that.

Even if there were private investigators somewhere in this city, what money could he use? Since he started running he hadn’t stopped. Sandra was his top concern and they stole to get by, mostly living on the streets to avoid some savvy poacher who might guess that despite Sandra’s short hair and shapeless clothes she was a girl. He’d left his CPC card in that apartment so far back it time he even forgot the colour of the damn thing. 

He wasn’t the rich kid he once was. He had responsibilities beyond photo shoots and movie deals, or homework he could blow off with sarcastic excuses. Holding Sandra’s hand right now, making sure she didn’t stray, even though he knew she wouldn’t was a reminder of that. 

So how would he track Stevenson? How could he go after the monster who married a woman against her will and kept her and her unborn child under his rule? According to Alphonse, Grace had freedoms. At least enough to allow her to have friends over for coffee; but was that it?

He could wonder as much as he liked, it was all up to fate at this point until they caught a break. Maybe they could keep their ear to the ground and hear news of a man and his young wife buying an apartment downtown. Maybe they could ask the truck service if there was anyone matching the couple’s description taking the trip to Houston. A lot of maybes…


	4. Chapter 4

The morning sun broke the darkness through cracked black glass. The pair under the warm blanket stirred. Sandra blinked blearily at Julian, eyes caught between waking and sleep. The little girl had a chunk of Julian’s shirt in her hand, both of them still dressed in their clothes from the day before. She yawned in the endearing way only a child could manage. 

Julian tried to get a few more moments sleep. They didn’t have any tracking today so he would try his hardest to get some rest. He was up late trying to tell Sandra stories about the days before all of this happened; back when the world was normal.

He let himself drift back into the blackness behind his eyes, grateful for the warm sun. Between dark clouds outside and inside, he’d thought he’d never be warm like this again. He felt Sandra shift beside him but ignored it. He was getting to sleep in.

Sandra however wasn’t having it. No lying about. She was already shaking him; soon she’d be poking him and then try to roll him over. He really didn’t want to get up. 

“Dadddd.” Sandra said softly, her hand on his shoulder. “It’s morning. Aren’t we doing it again today? Don’t you want to get up?”

“Not really.” He muttered into the pillow, turning away from her on the flattened mattress he’d dragged up the back stairs of building they were squatting in for now. “Not even five minutes? Please?”

She laughed. He almost smiled but he was still too sleepy. 

“You need to get up. We can’t sleep all day. Then we won’t sleep at night. I don’t want to turn into a bat.” 

Julian frowned into the pillow; he rolled over to face her. He didn’t open his eyes but he could see the shadows of her anyways before he reluctantly decided to face her.

Sandra was sitting eagerly next to him, her legs folded under her with an expectant smile on her face. 

“How did you know what a bat was?” He asked.

“It was in the encyclopedia Mommy had.” Sandra said matter-of-factly. 

Julian was almost impressed- were it not for the fact this information was keeping him from his rest. Then again this was Sandra, and once she was up, she was up. So much for his extra sleep he thought morosely. Time face the joys of parenthood.

He propped himself up slowly, bit by bit until he was sitting straight up. Sandra tried to push him up as he rose from the pillow but she wasn’t quite strong enough. He indulged her for a moment before she started to bat at his wavy hair, which had turned to frizzy curls while he slept.

“Come on, don’t do that.” Julian waved her hand away. 

She pouted and reached out again for a lock of hair. He gave her a warning look. She stopped. 

He sometimes wondered if he should indulge her poking and prodding. But then told himself he was already getting up early and teaching her the ABCs, letting her use him as a rag doll was crossing the line. She might get spoiled. …Wow, that was rich coming from him.

“Are we going to the square again?” Sandra asked as Julian got up, towering above her at full height. She stayed kneeling on the mattress as he went into the bathroom to change. They had a lot of space in this building. Which was unfortunately the only thing they had in abundance. 

“No, we’re going to try and go shopping. I still have some cash from the wallet we found.” Julian called. 

Yes, yes, what dubious morals he was teaching this little girl. He was a horrible father, telling her how to steal and not return what wasn’t theirs. Chalk that up to the lack of biological similarities or something. What else could you expect with the way the two of them has been brought together? The two of them couldn’t trust many people and it wasn’t like there was ID in the wallet. 

It was better than stealing from the stores themselves; at least this way Julian stopped getting chased by the police. Still it beat living outside of the Despes city limits- at least you wouldn’t be brought down the roving driving gangs which he’d heard had sprung up.

“Okay. So we’re going to get breakfast?” Sandra called.

He tried his best to wash up and dress. The water wasn’t turned on in this part of the building, this floor technically under construction. As long as they pretended they lived here, they could sneak in and out the front door and get a good night’s sleep. Yes, it involved more bent morality, but he was not repeating those months in the dumpster; although he was still sure he could smell the garbage even now. 

“No, we still have a couple apples in the sandwich bag on the counter. We can eat those.” Julian tugged on the black shirt he’d filched from the donation bin on New South Street. He reappeared into the room to find Sandra trying to make the bed, the ratty comforter was too large for her to manage. 

He smiled and crouched down to help her. She tried to do it anyway but his hold almost tripped her as she fought determinedly to lay the blanket straight. 

“Come on, I have it.” He said, trying to get her let him do it. 

“No.” She rolled away, wrinkling the blanket as she tried in her own way to make it lie flat. He almost laughed at the little frown on her face. 

“You’re ruining the sheets like that.” He got off the bed to tug the blankets down with her still on top.

“I don’t care, I can do it!” She flailed at the corner of the blanket, trying to readjust what Julian had just done. 

Sandra, for her age, was one of the most persistent people he had ever met. He’d met people just as stubborn but the amount of pride in what she did was interesting. He could pick her up and carry her around without her complaining she could walk but if he tried to do a task she was set on doing she’d ignore him and try to do it anyway. 

It was probably another one of the reasons he kept her near him for a lot of the time. He’d probably mention some little task that needed to be done, maybe like getting her a new pair of shoes. Then he’d go off to do some ‘shopping’ (aka stealing) and she’d go off on her own to find those shoes. He’d already found how much of a babbler she was, she’d probably think she could talk someone into giving her their own shoes. She was optimistic that way. 

He stepped back and let her try to make the bed as he went back to the other room to get the damp facecloth. The water was technically shut off but they’d managed to get a bucket of it the other day when the tap was leaking. He wrung it out and brought it into the other room along with a fresher change of clothes for Sandra. 

“Time to get dressed okay?” He asked as she was finalizing her messy, but presentable bedspread. 

She didn’t argue as he wiped her face and let her wipe her own hands off. He’d tried his best to get the night time dirt off her, but he let her have her own time. He went back into the other room to let her get changed as he wrung out the facecloth again. It was times like this that he was glad he had cut her hair. Besides safety reasons, shorter hair was easier to keep clean than long.

Which thinking of, he touched a chestnut lock which hung over his eye; he ought to cut his own hair pretty soon. It was getting a little untameable. Not good when you’re trying to be inconspicuous. The poachers they were following would start to report on the ‘strange guy with the girly long hair’. 

He stepped back in the room when Sandra shouted, “DONE!” They ate their apples together, Julian leaning on the counter and Sandra sitting on the edge of it with her feet off the side swinging. Sandra did some more ‘supposing’. It was one of her favourite hobbies. She did a lot of supposing on the day they met. Some about where her mother and father were; she did some of that now. 

“So the poachers have her but I suppose this Mr. Stevenson doesn’t want to hurt her. I bet they ran away somewhere pretty because he doesn’t want anyone else to have my mommy, not even me.” She paused, “I suppose he doesn’t know about me because mommy is keeping me safe. What do you think?”

”Your mommy is a smart woman. She knows that people could hurt you if they knew about you. Mr. Stevenson might want you if she had told him that you existed.” Julian explained the tough situation as easily as he could to her. 

He knew you weren’t supposed to sugar coat things for kids but he didn’t want to scare her. There was a difference between honesty and cruelty. He knew that all too well.

She barrelled through his internal thoughts again. “But doesn’t he know I exist? The day we saw mommy? He heard me didn’t he?”

Julian gulped. “He thinks it was just some random kid. He doesn’t know your mother had any other children.”

“Others? Like the one in her tummy?” Sandra asked. 

Julian nodded. “Yeah, your little brother or sister.”

“I suppose its twins.” She thought that was a good guess.

“I really don’t think you’re using the word ‘suppose’ right.” He told her. 

“Yes I am. It’s my word. I always use it right.” No arguing with that tone of voice. There was a bit of silence before anyone spoke again. 

“Where are we going today?” Sandra asked. 

“I told you we’re going shopping. Some bread, maybe some sausages- the good stuff they have in the black market.” He smiled. 

“So no poacher trapping?”

Julian nudged her. “Don’t sound so disappointed. We might go to the library, we haven’t done some reading in a while.”

“But you hate homework.” She didn’t sound confused, if anything there was some humour in her voice.

“But I know you have to learn. Can’t have you going out there like an idiot.”

“Idiot.” She parroted, knowing full well it annoyed him when she did it.

“Hey, what did I tell you about me using words and you using words?” He nearly laughed aloud. 

“I forgot.” She gave him a toothy grin. Bullshit, he couldn’t help but shake his head at her.

They finished breakfast quickly after that and wrapped their dirty laundry up in the empty sandwich bag. He’d also hoped they could get the clothes washed when they visited the black market. For all he’d stayed clear of it in the early days he was in Despes, he’d met quite a few characters who had eased his life on the streets. 

Hoisting the bag over his shoulder he took Sandra’s hand and let her lead the way down the back staircase. He cursed everytime they had to take the stairs but there wasn’t enough power in the whole world to run a proper elevator when there were more important things to be fuelled. They might pretend their rebuild cities were fancy metropolises but sometimes it was all in the illusion of the thing. 

The black market was their first stop, the closest place to the building where they had taken up temporary (illegal) residence. He had always known about it but had never cared to go near it. Maybe it was his rich upbringing but he had never sought out the company of the people who stole to get by. Oh how the mighty have fallen, or however the saying went. 

Some of the friends he had acquired he had met after meeting Sandra, but before losing Adam. It was only after he had learned the truth about his husband that he’d been forced to trust some of the shady sellers, who turned out to not be so shady after all. 

Not that any of it had been his own choice; a therapist would say he was suffering from major trust issues and was slightly… unhinged to say the least. But could you blame him? He was trying to sort out what space in his head were his own, and what was fabricated. Talking only confused him in those first few days, not fit to say anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

Call it a child’s intuition but Sandra knew how to break through to him. It must have been losing her mother and father that did it. Orphans, at least on TV, have these uncanny knacks of acting older than they are at the most convenient times. Well technically her mother was still out there but there had been a time when they gave up hope on Grace. 

That was what had truly brought them to the black market. Sandra had known that was where Julian had gotten a lot of their food for their supporters. Sometimes he stole from the legitimate businesses, but he did a lot of lurking down here. So on some whim she demanded he take her there and they get a whole feast of food. 

As soon as they stepped through the hidden entrance to the underground market she started talking up a storm. Babbling to anyone who would listen and asking them a whole manner of questions mixed in with her ‘supposings’. Julian had run ragged after her and buying things from every person she talked to in an attempt to appease her. The whole market was laughing at him and within the spanse of two hours she managed to befriend the whole place with her ‘boyish’ charm. 

One of the people who still teased Julian about it was Ol’ Cant who owned the cheese and sausage stall. He had known Julian before Sandy came in dumping the place on her head. As well as a couple teeth he’d lost his entire family, including his only son in the bombings. A few months ago he’d gotten a hold of a rough but working set of dentures and his whistles and lisps were all but gone. Julian felt friendly enough with him that they could joke about, for all the Ol’ Cant despised those who had been rich before the bombing. 

It was his stall that Sandra made a beeline for as they entered the market. The smells of the dank wasteland of half priced food steaming in the summer nearly brought Julian’s eyes to tears from the odour; thankfully the whistling voice of Ol’ Cant brought him out of his blinking. 

“What a sig’t it is to have both the ‘igh and mighty Julian C’vell in my lil’ market.” Ol’ Cant said with his strange slurred speech. He never seemed to get the H’s right, even before his dentures. At the very least the southern drawl wasn’t too horrid to deal with. Julian smiled a bit at the man, also taking care not to wince too much at Ol’Cant’s continued use of his married name; a divorce had never been put forward but the separation still hurt.

“Oh yes what a sight. Alert the media.” Julian said sarcastically, with only the slightly touch of irony as he let go of Sandra, allowing her to scurry around the counter of Cant’s stall and hug him tightly. 

Once upon a time someone might have actually alerted the media of his presence but now most people would probably not recognize Brad Pitt even if he showed them a government ID and all his DVD covers. A couple years and everyone forgets who they used to worship on their TV screens. So much for the fangirls’ ‘I’ll love you forevers.’

“Oh Sandy, is that the best you’ve got for an ol’ man on ‘is last legs?” Cant picked the child up and sat her on the counter. “Makes me miss being a pa. They’re all tails n’ paws wen you get ‘em like this.”

“Yeah well this one is mine since his mom got taken. So keep your notions of fatherhood to yourself, not like its easy raising a kid around here.” Julian leaned on the counter, his elbow resting on a thick coil of kielbasa like the stuff the good Polish butchers put on display in old delis. Cant told him he’d gotten the recipe from a guy before the bombs but Julian was fairly certain it was an old family secret. Not that it would taste the same as it did without proper meat to make it with. 

“I’d never take this one away from you. He loves yah far too much, even with his ma getting snatched n’ all. I couldn’t take him even if I wanted to.” Cant smiled, the seam between his real gums and the fake gums more evident that usual, his grins wider whenever Sandy came around. 

“We’d like three days worth.” Sandy piped up, pointing to the cheese and sausages spread across the stall. 

Cant gave her a look, mischief dancing across his old features. He may be only middle aged but something had withered him to the point not smoothing would take the marks from his skin. His leathery fingers picked up a thick pork (at least Julian was promised it was pork) sausage and held it out to her. “Yer getting’ greedy kid. Or is this more than just your lunch?”

Sandy shook her head, “It’s also our dinner, and our breakfast. I’m not a big eater.”

“You better not, burd’ning yer poor pa like that.” Cant let Sandy pick the sausages as Julian leaned across the counter, intent on something more than cheese. 

Julian’s voice was low as he spoke, feeling the movement behind him as other costumers of the market came to do their daily shopping. He couldn’t risk news of an escaping woman, even if her captor was with her. It wasn’t safe in a place that practically ran on the illegal trade. Even if there was no stall where they put women up with collars and declared them slaves there was no telling when they’d start it. “We caught a trail.” 

Cant stiffened, his fingers slowed as he fumbled with the small cash box behind his stall. He gulped, “Yah sure?”

“Positive. We even have a name and a past address. Sometime after we saw her, Grace and her man, Stevenson, packed up and left their house. Neighbours say something spooked them and I’m fairly certain that thing was Sandy seeing her.” Julian said lowly. He could trust Cant with this information because it was only Cant who actually gave a damn about the women of the city and didn’t want a thing from them in return. 

Most men when they looked into the cases of the poachings didn’t do it out of ‘justice’. Even if they didn’t want the woman herself they always seemed to be part of the ‘repopulist’ movement, which encouraged all women to have as many daughters as possible. And they thought they were out of the days when women were simply uteruses; now if they were safe and sound they could be uteruses for the state. Cant on the other hand didn’t want women to be set free so they could go and get married and have babies, he wanted them to be happy and raise families because they wanted to. He’d said something along the lines of ‘if my boy couldn’t be happy at least someone should be’. It was strange but that was Cant.

Cant had seen more disappearing women than you could shake a stick at. He actually got milk straight from the supplier of milk to the lower Georgia region because he’d informed on his daughter’s disappearance. He’d heard word about a shipment of ‘sweet peaches’ and supposed, since no one had peaches nowadays, that it was code for something. He had a good ear for information. 

This was why Sandy liked him best of all the sellers in the market. He cared, truly cared about finding her mother. Julian might be happy about it because he’d be able to find Grace but while he was doing the searching it was Sandra’s mother, not Julian’s, that was missing. Sandy was the one who truly cared about this all, despite her bright eyed optimism about the situation which might seem naïve at some times. 

“Did you get any word of where this Stevenson is headed with her? Could be that you might have to comb through the whole of downtown before you catch another glimpse of her.” Cant warned. 

Julian nodded. “One of the neighbours said they might have gone to Houston.”

Cant hissed. Sandra didn’t stop her picking through the cheeses. 

“Houston? They’re mad. It’s hell in Houston- full of rotten commie red crossers. If she cries to even one nurse that Stevenson aint her man then the whole of the Red Cross Guard is coming down on him and throwing him out. It’s the worst place for poachers in the whole country!”

“Isn’t it good if that happens? The Red Cross will be able to get her back to us.” Julian sounded excited. 

“No you idjut don’t you get it? If the Red Cross gets a hold of her than she’ll never leave. The whole place is a political mess. They say they want to help their people but really they want to keep all the women for themselves. If there was ever a city of ‘repopulists’ its them. They’re mad as hatters and crazy to boot.” 

“So she’d be forced to stay there? Forever?” The words stuck in his throat. “But I thought Houston was our biggest trading partner? Why would we be so close with them if they were so against women? We have a whole channel devoted to catching the poachers in the city.” 

“I can’t tell you. All I know is that there is something that’s keeping Houston and Despes happy with each other and it aint the goodness of our hearts. Remember, these cities no matter how nicely they were founded were still founded by the same suckers who lived with and voted for the suckers who were gonna send second waves back to the Koreans. We’re still bible belters for all the liberals around here.” He spat. “Didn’t mean to make no speeches.” 

Julian gulped. “So do you think that’s where he took her?” 

“If he thinks someone is chasin’ him he may get desperate. I can’t see him as a rational sort if he’s dealing in stolen women. He might risk it.”

“So you think he’s gone to Houston.” 

Cant nodded. “If he can control Grace for long enough to get set up in the city he’ll be home free. He’s already got a babe on the way even if it aint his, he’ll be welcomed in the city no problem. As long as she don’t squeal on him they might make it.” 

“Anyone who packs up in the middle of the night and runs because some little kid thinks they saw their parent is pretty crazy.” He gulped. “You sure there isn’t some other place he might have brought her?”

“Nope.” Cant relpied. “Looks like you two are going to Houston. The best steam trucks in the city are your best bet on catching up to them before they disappear.”

“Fuck.” Julian cursed. If only this was a movie, he could just press fast forward and they’d have Grace back after two hours, a couple montages and an amazing film score. It was so much harder in real life. He rubbed his forehead. “Fine then, make that five days of food then.”

“I think Sandy already has that covered.” Cant pointed at dark child on the counter with a bulging bag of cheese. Julian handed over the money, wondering how this became his lot in life. Cant said he was just lucky. If only he knew. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unreleased work for a City of Men sequel; originally written in 2013. Released from the harddrive for the Daltonfic Big Bang 2020.


End file.
